


lay it down easy but lay it on me

by swimthewholeriogrande



Series: i'd be home with you [5]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Nightmares, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:06:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimthewholeriogrande/pseuds/swimthewholeriogrande
Summary: Recovery is slower than ice - for everyone.





	lay it down easy but lay it on me

__

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"N-no, no, n-" 

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_"Shut up."_

__

_Amy bites her lip and tries to keep her eyes on Jake's face, but she can't make her vision focus. Another sharp, hysterical burst of pain up her spine makes her jerk, and Jake fumbles for her hands, both of them cuffed and clumsy, paw-like._

_"Doing so good," Jake rasps, "it's okay, it's okay, Amy."_

_It isn't. It isn't. It hurts so bad. Gerry pushes the knife hard against her spine and she imagines the blunt-broken point cutting clean through her vertebrae, through her heart, through the floor below her. Her back is hot and itching as blood wells and she is going to scream._

_Jake's ragged nails almost cut her as he squeezes her hand. "Ssh, ssh, babe," he whispers, just for her, a private thought that Gerry surely can't hear over his own innane rambling, "you're alright. I'm here, Amy. It's okay. Ssh -"_

_She can't help it; a keen spills out of her mouth, high and frightened, as the knife cuts too deep to surely be safe. She is supposed to be quiet. Gerry directs his shouting to her, hits the back of her head, and Jake begs her to stop but Amy can't. It's coming from somewhere too feral inside of her. She bucks and squirms, losing the precious contact with Jake, and hears the knife get thrown across the room._

_Gerry flips her over; the rough carpet fibres rub raw at the critical bleeding in her back. One. Apply pressure. Two. Elevate above the heart. Three - what's three?_

_The wild, animal sound is still piercing her eardrums. Jake's hands snag in her hair and then clap over her mouth, shutting the musicbox._

_"She just needs a minute." Amy hears her husband plead. His fingers taste like iron. "Just a second. She didn't - she -"_

And Amy bursts awake, a firework in the beeping-hospital-dark, ripped out of the nightmare by a firm hand on her arm. There's a woman's voice that she recognises and she swings her head blindly towards it.

"Easy, girl." Gina is talking to her like a scared dog and Amy is floored because oh thank God, it's Gina and not that man, and Gina can talk to her however she wants.

"Sorry," she rasps. She can't express what she wants, but Gina seems to get it, because she shuffles aside and Amy sees Jake's familiar silhoutte; he's safe. They're both safe, and she melts with relief.

Gina flicks the light on and Jake looks as wrecked as Amy feels. His face is stubbly and scared. "Hey, babe," he whispers, his throat destroyed too, and he looks - he looks -

His body, so ruined, ignites a cry in her chest. She can't touch him; she won't hurt him by putting her hands on his bruising skin, every inch of him a wound. Amy jerks away from him, and the crack in her femur flares with pain, and the last thing she sees before she sleeps with it is Jake's burning eyes, Gina slamming her finger down on the nurse call button like it will fix everything.

-

Rosa has never lost control before like she did with that man. That monster.

Her hand still aches as she watches him through the observation window in the precinct, knuckles sore from slamming them into his face. He's cuffed tight to the table, probably tighter than he should be, but fuck it and fuck him. Rosa feels the rage start to build in her chest again and has to take a deep breath; the man's eyes are shiny and black as stone. She feels a vindictive pride at the bruises around them that she caused.

"Diaz?"

She whips around, hand on her gun, and sees Terry with a cup of coffee. He doesn't look surprised - they've all been spooking at shadows the whole week since they found Jake and Amy, disorientated at the state two of their own are in.

"Has anyone talked to him yet?" Terry asks, his face tired and older than she's ever seen it, and Rosa takes the coffee and shakes her head.

"Nope." She turns back to the window. "Holt says we can't. Has to be someone who doesn't know Jake and Amy. He said we're too close to it. Or something."

She wants to go in and break the rest of his face. She wants this to be over. Terry's hand rests on her shoulder and he squeezes once, reassuring, as the monster in the other room stares blankly at the mirror and therefore at them.

His eyes are so dead.


End file.
